


Broken Words

by KarasuNei



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Sad old men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuNei/pseuds/KarasuNei
Summary: The whole war was because they couldn't talk to each other. There were things that could have been avoided, but would they have it any other way?





	

**Author's Note:**

> An indulgent oneshot before before I had to plunge myself into an extremely busy period.  
> ./cry  
> I hope you guys will enjoy this! It's a bit of a mess, but hey, indulgence is indulgence XD
> 
> The setting is post Jack's promotion and then post Ana recruitment comic.

* * *

 

                Like all other missions, it started out simple enough.

 

                They were cordially invited to a social gathering that was just a few details short from being an extravagant ball. Coincidentally, the host was a highly sought-after target that might just link them to many, _many_ crime organisations. Normally, Jack wouldn’t have bothered with this kind of operation, it was so mundane and other public forces should have taken care of it instead of Overwatch. They were well-versed on the battlefield, shooting big guns and fighting even bigger robots. Perhaps this was why Torbjorn, Reinhardt and Winston retained from joining this mission, deeming it a waste of time and too mundane of notice.

 

                Those who gathered at Jack’s recently-appointed office didn’t look much enthusiastic, either.

 

                In his crisp collar and the even crisper smell of new paint, Jack felt out of his skin, and he tried to look anywhere but Gabriel. He didn’t have the slightest idea why the Blackwatch leader was here. _Yes_ , Jack might have called for him, but Gabriel never showed up at his office. Not since _that day_.

 

                The fact that Gabriel brought McCree, of all people, irked Jack even worse.

 

                No matter, Jack thought to himself. He carried on with the debriefing with barely a wrinkle to his perfect poker face. Ideas were passed around and if any of those presented noticed anything, none made a remark. However, the shifting of Ana’s eyes from him to Gabriel was constant, even if she didn’t say a word. Ignoring the glances and the discomfort coiling at the pit of his stomach, Jack carried on. Still, he could not help himself but watch Gabriel out of the corner of his eye.

 

                Gabriel was…the same, or so Jack supposed. The dark man was impassive in his perpetual scowl, skimming through the report quietly with an occasional sip of his coffee. Black, Jack could tell by the scent, just like how Gabriel always took it. Jack hated the taste of it, bitter and liquidy that clung to the roof of his mouth a little too tightly, yet gave Gabriel a distinct smoky, pleasant hint to his breaths…

 

                Jack stomped down the memory, clearing his throat and feeling Ana’s stare burning a hole into his skin.

 

                “Honestly, love, I don’t see the need of gathering us all here for such a minor mission.”

 

                Jack had expected that comment a lot earlier into the meeting. If he had to admit to himself, Jack didn’t know why he gathered all these faces here, either. Angela belonged at the med bays and particularly gruesome missions. Lena received her chronal accelerator not too long ago. Ana had no interest in covert ops of this calibre. McCree was about the least subtle person everyone would ever have the pleasure to meet. And then…there were Jack and Gabriel.

 

                He had never felt so _empty_ , looking at a room full of familiar faces.

 

                “All o’ us bein’ here is a lil’ overkill, dun y’ think?”

 

                Discomfort turned into a mild annoyance. But of course, Jack didn’t get a chance to speak. Gabriel’s rumbling voice startled him, bringing forth a spike of both spite and sadness. Pulling up a picture on his holo tablet, Gabriel raised an eyebrow at nobody in particular.

 

                “There is a less difficult way for one of us to sneak into the target’s room while the rest can enjoy the party.”

 

                Jack’s stomach dropped like a rock, in contrary to everyone else’s positive responses.

 

                The next few days passed like a blur, and Jack found himself unable to focus on the conversation at hand, with the very person that he was supposed to keep occupied. The millionaire had been thrilled to have such a range of decorated veterans attending his party. Overwatch’s poster faces were never ones to be seen at such events. After the obligatory name-passing and curtsies, Jack’s ensemble drifted off, leaving him with just the earpiece to remind him that he wasn’t completely alone.

 

                Everything was gilded and ridiculously expensive. Women floated by in their fluttering gowns and men marched around in almost identical pressed suits that probably were thrice of his monthly pay check. Impeccable waiters drifted about with glimmering huge trays that served tiny, fancy hors d’oeuvres that he had no name for. Everyone spoke in hushed, nasal tones, and their tinkling laughter couldn’t be any faker even if they tried.

 

                Jack could not recall a time when he felt more out of his skin. Or when he was so utterly pissed and yet having to keep a straight face.

 

                “ _Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be roaming these halls alone_.”

 

                It had begun.

 

                It was unreasonable of him, Jack knew, given the nature of this mission. God, he wished he had never brought this up. He didn’t even know what compelled him to do this in the first place.

 

                Listening to Gabriel flirting with the host’s young, beautiful and all around plastic-y _wife_ was terrible for Jack’s SEP reflexes. Curse Torbjorn and his perfect feed, because every single word was clearer than the crystal Jack held and like a gunshot by his ear. It didn’t help that he had seen Gabriel beforehand, all decked out in tailored suit that Angela hand-picked out for them all, shoulders bow-taunt and thick muscles hugged in all the right places. The ratty beanie was missing for once, and Jack found his fingers itching to run through the soft fuzz of Gabriel’s scalp.

 

                _“…So blue. Reminds me of clear autumn skies_.”

 

                Something curded at the back of Jack’s mouth, sour, bitter and venomous. He knew those words. They were spoken to him once, when he lay bleeding behind enemy line. His head was cradled in Gabriel’s lap, dazed from blood lost. Gabriel had been babbling, eyes wild and composure shattered. Calloused hands were sticky with sweat and blood, one pressed against Jack’s gaping wound and the other shooting overhead. Everything was muddled into a buzz in Jack’s ears, except for Gabriel’s voice, rough and hoarse and _begging_. It was that time, when his life was hanging by a thread, the flood gate opened. Confession after confession, threats and praises and pleas branded into Jack’s brain despite the physical agony he was going through.

 

                It would probably kill him to say it aloud, but in the deepest crevices of Jack’s heart, he missed Gabriel. But that wasn’t enough to overshadow the hurt and the doubts, the moment when Gabriel turned and walked away. Was what they had not enough? Did the promotion mean more to Gabriel than Jack himself? Than what they had?

 

                What were they now?

 

                “ _Target acquired_.”

 

                The delicate wine glass broke in Jack’s hand. He was unhearing of the host’s and his entourage’s exclaims, the two words echoed over and over in his head in a string of mocking sneers. In the span of thirty minutes, Gabriel might have woven more adulations to that nameless lady than in the years they were together. The familiar husky, rumbling voice that normally sent chills down Jack’s spine was now scathing fire instead, burning his heart into a lump of deformed coal. It seethed and twisted, and it hurt so bad he couldn’t even feel the jagged shards digging into his skin.

 

                He barely registered the mumbled apology Ana made (when had she gotten to his side anyway?) and didn’t have it in him to protest when the sniper took him by the elbow, dragging him away from the scene. Yet, Jack could keenly feel the moment the line went dead, the sharp click punched the air out of his lungs.

 

                _Unreasonable. Pathetic. Childish_.

 

                Gabriel was not his to lose anymore.

 

                Still, in the dead of night, when Gabriel strolled down the halls in another one of his insomniac episodes, Jack met him with a punch to the jaw. Jack knew the paths Gabriel would take, the dark man’s habits seared into his memory like every other thing about him. It was messed up, _Jack_ was messed up, but he didn’t care, _couldn’t_ care.

 

                In spite of split lips and molten glare, Gabriel did not say a word to him. There was none of the usual taunting when Jack’s temper ran high, none of that jeering with a hint of warm amusement. Something in Jack twisted. It was stinging and tarry on his tongue, and rage reared its ugly head, lashing out in a flurry of jabs and kicks. His roars were something choked and hoarse that barely sounded human. Blinded in his fury, he drove himself against Gabriel. If anyone had passed this deserted corridor, they would have mistaken their beloved Strike-Commander for a wounded beast.

 

                Most of Jack’s attempts were blocked and swiped away, the few that made contact _was just not enough_ to cease this crashing wave of anger. There was barely a pinch to Gabriel’s brows and he didn’t even make _one move_ to fight back. Just as Jack knew Gabriel’s habits, Gabriel knew Jack’s every movement. Every shift of muscle was learned and countered and trained together. Even in Jack’s enraged state, most of him was read almost too easily. And that, above all else, hurt the most.

 

                Being SEP had its advantages. Jack could throw punches all night long. His vision was bleak and the jerks of his body were erratic, but he didn’t tire. He _couldn’t_. Jack knew the moment he stopped would be the moment he broke, and that was something he just couldn’t do, not when he had gone and humiliated himself so.

 

                Perhaps he had given into emotion too much, perhaps it was because he had shouted until he had lost his voice, perhaps it was because Gabriel was getting tired of his antics, but Jack suddenly found himself pinned onto the cold, hard floor. His head rang painfully at the collision, one arm harshly yanked behind his back and the other caught in an iron grip by the elbow. Yet, the pain did nothing to dull the feeling of Gabriel’s body pressed against his, heated with all its defined lines, and the hot, damp breaths that raised the hair along his nape.

 

                Jack felt strangely aroused, and immediately was disgusted with himself. This was the most intimate position they had been in since the promotion, so many months ago. And while his rage had yet to recede, part of him urged Jack to reach out, to sink himself into Gabriel’s familiar scent, to _take back_ the piece of him that was lost.

 

                “Got it all out now?”

 

                The voice against his ear wasn’t of smoke and whiskey like Jack had half expected to hear. It was just as chilling as the floor beneath him. Even though breathless from all the violence, it lacked the warmth, the _love_ that Jack used to know.

 

                Ice wrapped its suffocating hands around his heart and squeezed.

 

                The fight slipped from him, leaving Jack disoriented and empty. Gabriel’s bulk moved away from him almost just as quick. Jack stayed lax, knowing that if he looked at Gabriel then, the sting in his eyes would turn into something he might regret forever. He allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position, pliant and soulless against the wall. Jack kept his shoulders hunched and his gaze bolted on his ankle, refusing to acknowledge Gabriel’s crouching form.

 

                Silence engulfed them. Incapability of physical exhaustion did nothing to stop the feeling that he was drowning. Jack felt so _jaded_ , like his entire being was suddenly made of lead and yet unstable like it was shaped from straws. Gabriel was only inches away, but if Jack reached out, there would only be empty air in his arms.

 

                Jack didn’t know whether he wanted Gabriel to get out of his sight, or to pull Jack against him. Jack wasn’t sure how he would react to either of those actions. They needed to talk, but his tongue felt like iron in his mouth.

 

                What was there to talk about, when clearly there was nothing left to salvage?

 

                And yet his chest was tugged in opposite directions when Gabriel stood. The shuffling of well-worn hoodie and the clopping of heavy boots were amplified in the deathly quiet hall, each sound a nail on Jack’s coffin. Bitterness swirled within him, into something that was nasty and pungent. What was there to lose anymore?

 

                “Is that it? You’re just gonna walk away?”

 

                The steps halted. And Jack hated that there was a sliver of hope worming itself among surges of negativities. He hated himself for hoping that Gabriel would turn around, that he would _stay_.

 

                “I don’t have to. You already did.”

 

                Just like that, hope extinguished into a ghostly trail. Jack’s heart felt like it was jammed up his throat. Rage seethed, but Jack simply had no energy to channel it any longer. His eyes burned and the edges of his vision blurred away.

 

                “Does it mean that much to you? The position? More than _us_?”

 

                There was a long pause. He thought Gabriel would attack him. Hell, he _wanted_ Gabriel to lunge at him, with whatever righteous fury he could throw at Jack. Jack just wanted a reaction, _anything_ other than this cool indifference.

 

                “No, but it certainly means more to you than me.”

 

                And Gabriel left, walking away and out of Jack’s life.

 

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

 

                “You two can’t keep doing this to yourselves.”

 

                Jack didn’t even look up from his coffee, black and tasted like motor oil, “You gotta be more specific.”

 

                Ana didn’t look even remotely amused. She sipped her tea with all the elegance and poise that only seemed to grow finer and more sarcastic with age. The sharp single gaze over flowery-rimmed china had the same effect as it did to him all those years ago. Jack bit back the urge to curse, and gulped down his disgusting, lukewarm coffee instead.

 

                “Don’t give me that, Morrison. You know exactly what I’m talking about. He had the perfect opportunity to kill you earlier. And you, you dropped your guard when he showed.” Ana’s tone was crisp and left no room for argument. Jack knew better than to talk back when she was in this kind of mood.

 

                Jack couldn’t fucking believe it, almost a decade later and he was sitting here, in Gibraltar’s bleary industrial kitchen, and having this conversation with Ana Amari, whom he just _re_ -recruited for the Recall. Life certainly was creative in its way of shitting on him.

 

                “What do you want me to do?” Jack was tired, he really was. The unexpected run-in with Reaper had dredged up too many memories that Ana was doing a rather poor job of helping him ignoring, “We parted on bad terms. Nothing has changed. He’s with the bad guys now. It’s simple enough. What else do you want?”

 

                “ _John Morrison_.” He winced at the mild anger and all around disappointment in her voice, “How dare you tell me _it’s simple_?! Your _lover spat_ brought down an entire HQ! For the last few years of Overwatch being operational, nothing had gotten anywhere because you two refused to be functional adults and _speak_ to each other! Even now, after that rubbish you said, deep in your heart, you know damn well you don’t believe _Gabriel_ is truly evil.”

 

                Jack flinched at the name. Old hurt and fury bubbled to the surface. Unwise of him, because losing his temper around Ana had never turned out well. But Jack couldn’t stand this. He didn’t bring Ana here to lecture him about something that should have laid undisturbed under the ruins in Zurich.

 

                “Oh gee, it’s almost like you’re siding with him on this.” Jack groused, but downed the rest of his coffee so he wouldn’t say anything stupider. The dainty, almost too quiet chink of china on metallic surface, confirmed that _yes_ , he just royally pissed Ana off. More than she already was, anyway.

 

                “Jack, I followed you because on the grand scheme of things, your course of action is more fitting to my cause. On a personal level, you screwed up far worse than Reyes had.”

 

                Her biting, accusing words crossed a threshold. His mug slammed onto the kitchen island, sending ceramic chips scattering, “Why is it _my fault_ that things turned out this way?! Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one that blew Zurich sky high!!! I’m not the one running around with _Talon_ and I’m certainly not the one that’s been hunting down _old Overwatch agents_ in their retirement homes!!!”

 

                “ _Jack Morrison!!!_ ” Ana snapped, her accent stilted in the raise of volume. Nostrils flaring, the sniper’s hands were flat against the island, twitching in barely contained anger, “ _I_ am the one who is supposed to be half-blind here! If you stop being a stubborn, goat-headed idiot for once and go through all the choices you made, then perhaps you can understand why Gabriel turned out the way that he did! I am not supporting what the idiot got himself into either, but _that.is.not.the.point!_ ”

 

                “Then what _is_ _the point_ here, Ana?!” Jack stood up as well, exhaustion and fury carved themselves into the already numerous lines on his face, “Sounds to me like you’re been blaming _me_ about this fallout, about _everything_! Fine! I could have had handled things a lot better, shit could have gone a lot smoother between us, but it wasn’t _just me_ that fucked it all up!!! _He_ chose to be bitter! _He_ chose to walk away!!! What else could I possibly have done?!?!?!”

 

                “ _You_ signed him off to _Blackwatch_ , _Ya Ibn el Sharmouta_!!!” Ana swore, smacking the counter in a fit of uncontrolled rage. It stilled him. Ana, the picture of dignified poise and elegance even in the art of assassination, _never_ swore nor got violent. The mention of Blackwatch, however, plunged the kitchen into a deathly silence.

 

                “ _Wha-what do you mean???_ ” In his surprise, Jack stuttered, anger and anxiety warring in an odd mix, thrumming in his blood as if anticipating something terrible to happen. Ana pinched the bridge of her nose, just below the strap of her eyepatch, and the effort she was taking to calm herself down was visible.

 

                “Jack. You sent him off to Blackwatch after your promotion. Yes, I realised that the UN made the offer, but _you_ were the one to sign the slip of paper.” She resettled back down on her stool, clearly was not in the mood for more yelling.

 

                “You _don’t do that_ , Jack. You don’t just send someone so close to you away from your side. Not without discussing it with him first.”

 

                Anger overcame other emotions once more, “He was bitter because I got the promotion instead of him. Giving him Blackwatch was a strategic move. A peace-offering! He would be in the same position as I was initially! And having him, _whom I trusted_ , leading the branch should have secured our hold over Overwatch, not _dividing_ it!”

 

                Ana’s stare was cold, “You sounded just like the UN.”

 

                The words didn’t hit him straight away. But when they did, Jack clamped his mouth shut, mildly horrified.

 

                “Had you ever thought to consult Gabriel’s opinion about this? Or was this decision made only to soothe your ego? Because even _you_ doubted yourself that you were picked because you were the _Golden Boy_? That somehow you could prove _yourself_ good enough even if you were only Gabriel’s second??”

 

                He should have been furious. He should have flung something across the gap between them, to shatter that deadpanned look on Ana’s face. He should have screamed some more and _denied_ everything that she just said. But Jack’s knees gave out instead. His weight made the iron stool grate jarringly on the floor, and his silver head bowed, cradled in his own hands.

 

                A million thoughts raced across his mind, each of them attacked his memories like a pack of hungry wolves. There was nothing Jack could say then, every argument and protest died even before they could reach his throat.

 

                The fight they had just before fire and everything else came tumbling down played on a loop in Jack’s head. Gabriel’s wild claims of Overwatch being compromised. Jack’s own shouting about Gabriel being the root of the problem. They came to blows, not much different from the one they had in that deserted corridor, except Gabriel had had quite a few punches to give back. Jack remembered the incoherent cursing, the flying accusations, the pent-up hurt and hatred that blended into a whirlwind of fists and knees. They fought until flames licked up their bodies, until the world went black.

 

                Ana’s words echoed in his head, overlapping the images. Jack dug the butts of his palms into his eyes, rubbing them furiously, as if he could wake up from all of this _nightmare_. He could feel Ana’s eyes on him, burning almost in the same intensity that the fire had.

 

                “I am such a fool…”

 

                “…Yes, you are. But so is he.” Her voice was gentler this time, though still hadn’t quite lost its edge, “Even after all of this, all that had happened…you both still couldn’t get over each other. It would have been so beautiful if it wasn’t so tragically stupid.”

 

                His chuckle was weak, a wheeze that escaped from behind the cracks of his fingers, “And this is why I never let you do the pep talks back in the days.”

 

                “No, but at least I get the point across. Should have demanded a higher raise for dealing with the two of you, though.”

 

 

 

                They didn’t meet again until months later.

 

                Jack wasn’t actively seeking out for _him_ , knowing that the more he thought about it, the more chances he was going to ruin it like everything else. So Jack threw himself into every mission Winston coughed up, keeping his mind busy. Ana didn’t stop him, or try to get into any other emotional conversation with him after that day. She said her piece, she was done. No nagging, no nonsense. At least, Jack could say he was thankful to have her in his life.

 

                Seeing Reaper again was just as much of a surprise as it had been the last time. But Jack figured he shouldn’t be. The world was too small and there were yet too many strings connecting them together. They were not done, had never been. And he didn’t even flinch as a cold barrel pressed against his forehead. To be fair, his rifle was digging into Reaper’s ribcage as well.

 

                “What’s wrong, Jackie? Too old to fight anymore?”

 

                Voice, raspy and hollow beneath the mask, was both familiar and unheard of all the same. Something twisted in Jack’s heart, but it wasn’t one of pain. It was akin to melancholy, a certain reminder that they had both changed _so much_ despite the mess inbetween remaining untouched. He was no longer Jack Morrison, Strike-Commander, and Reaper was no longer Gabriel Reyes of Blackwatch. Perhaps those titles had never truly existed either and, like the masks they were both wearing now, simply were means to cover what they refused to show the world. Or to each other.

 

                “You’re not going to kill me Reyes.” Jack heard himself grunting. The gun pushed further into his receding hairline.

 

                “Don’t be too sure. Your head is worth quite a few pretty pennies.”

 

                “What need does a dead man have for money?”

 

                “Indulgences that the living can’t afford.”

 

                Neither made another move. They stood locked in the silence of an old abandoned Overwatch base. If it wasn’t for the visor, Jack’s lungs would have been covered in dust and he probably wouldn’t have been able to make out the shape of Gabriel’s body. The thought of his name, even unconscious, made Jack shift uncomfortably. He wasn’t prepared for this.

 

                “When are we going to stop this, Gabe?”

 

                The slight jerk of shoulders told Jack that Gabriel wasn’t expecting this either. For a moment, Jack thought that the shotgun’s trigger would go off out of reflex. But Gabriel had always been more formidable than that.

 

                “This has stopped a lifetime ago.”

 

                “No. Not when you are out hunting for me the moment you knew I was alive. Not when I can’t stop thinking about what happened in ever quiet second I got.”

 

                Reaper’s laughter was harsh behind his owl-like mask, an eerie reminder of the Blackwatch logo, “I see old age has also made you sappy.”

 

                Impatience seeped into his voice as Jack nudged the rifle non-too-gently, “I don’t want to deal with your sass right now, Reyes. We clearly are not going to kill each other, so why bother with the façade? Can we talk like human beings for once?”

 

                The backhand was rather unexpected. But Jack supposed he deserved it. The mask absorbed most of the hit, but the ringing in his ear was unpleasant.

 

                “ _You_ don’t get to demand that out of me!” For once, there was that well-known temper swirling in the grousing snarl.

 

                Jack was glad, even if he knew it was pathetic of him. That there was still something there, something that he knew. That somewhere, deep within the charred mess that Jack had a hand in burning down, _Gabriel_ was still there. Even if that Gabriel was no longer his.

 

                He stomped out the beginning curl of pain in his chest and steadied himself, “You’re right. I don’t.”

 

                Of all the years they had been together, through budding friendship, hellish SEP training, passionate lovers and then explosive fallout, there hadn't been many instances where Jack would agree with Gabriel so willingly. Looking back, Jack knew he ought to have done so many more times over.

 

                At least his response had Gabriel rearing backwards.

 

                “Look.” Jack began before Gabriel could get over the shock, before either of them could do something drastic and stupid, “I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

 

                Even though he couldn’t see Gabriel’s face, Jack could hear the sneer, could imagine the way Gabriel clenched his jaws, how every word was forced through gritted teeth, “I don’t want your _sorry_! It means nothing! So the _Golden Boy_ has finally gotten over his ego and spared the illusion of his once fancy some pity?! How self-absorbed could you be?!”

 

                “I know it means nothing! God fucking damn it, Gabriel! If it would help you in any way, then go ahead, put a bullet into my brain if you want!”

 

                Gabriel’s response was lost in an intelligible roar, and he dissolved into a mass of swirling smoke. Fear was evoked in Jack’s heart, but not because of the ungodly display of power. It was because he was afraid of Gabriel leaving again, and they would go back to this routine. Not because it hurt Jack, but he knew it also hurt _Gabriel_ , no matter what he acted. Jack made a move to lunge forward, only to be pushed away, skidding across the empty space, and pinned against a dusty wall. His pulse rifle was lost in the flurry of movements, and his now free hands flung out, grasping desperately at the smoke that seethed around him.

 

                “ _I WILL BREAK YOU MORRISON!!! I WILL BREAK YOU FOR ALL YOU DID!!!_ ” It was high pitched, wraith-like and sent chills down Jack’s spine. His head spun and his eyes watered behind the bleak red visor, but Jack’s hands scrambled where a face should be, heedless of how his fingers had turned ice cold despite the layer of padded gloves.

 

                “I don’t care!!! Stay!! _Please!!!_ ” It was his turn to plead. They strewed out of him, melded together in a mess of shouts and sobs. Jack didn’t care anymore. He was tired. Gabriel was tired. They had been tired for so long. And they were so stubborn to deny themselves of each other. To right what was once wrong. He ripped the visor off, and was blasted with a chilling wave of death and decay. Yet he struggled, trying to find the shape of the man he once knew amidst the furious smoke.

 

                “Gabe… _please_ …” He didn’t know when he started crying. Didn’t know when it had become so hard to breath. Even his thoughts were barely coherent, and Jack felt so, _so_ helpless. Stubbornness was the only thing to keep him moving, adamantly searching like he could piece the fragments of Gabriel back together.

 

                Slowly, the darkness became solid once more, masked face in Jack’s hands and clawed hands around Jack’s throat.

 

                “Even like this, you are still so selfish.”

 

                In the thrumming of his blood and the choked noises he was making, Jack almost missed the whisper. “I know.”

 

                The thumb that traced his cheek left a stinging scratch, playing with the beads of tear and blood. For a while, Jack’s harsh breathing was the only sound to fill the silence, his palms clinging onto the smooth surface of Gabriel’s mask, fearing that if he ever let go, everything would only restart itself.

 

                “It won’t be the same.”

 

                Ironically, despite this whole disaster being created by lack of communication to begin with, Jack could understand perfectly what Gabriel was trying to say with so little words, “I know.”

 

                “Shit won’t magically fix themselves just because we talked for once.”

 

                “…We didn’t exactly talk. But it’s a start.”

 

                “And I thought you didn’t want any sass?”

 

                Jack gave a chuckle. Shaken, exhausted, but there was an upward curl to his scarred lips, where Gabriel’s thumb lingered just a little longer, “I’m a good learner.”

 

                “But not quick enough.” The pressure around his neck tightened for a hair of a moment, before letting go.

 

                “I’m sorry.”

 

                “Won’t cut it.”

 

                “I know.”

 

                “Is that all you can say now? That explosion must have been pretty bad.”

 

                Jack bit back any bitter retort he might have spat out, even though the stains on his cheeks were still prominent. This wasn’t the time. If there was one thing that he truly had learned, that times like this had no place for his ego.

 

                “I am here to listen. To try and salvage what I can. With _your_ help. And this time, I will listen.”

 

                The masked visage titled to the side. It was tough telling what Gabriel was thinking, but his cold hand was still upon Jack’s chin, so gentle it might have been a fragment of Jack’s imagination.

 

                “What happened to you?”

 

                “Being without you.”

 

                In the end, it didn’t go quite the way Jack thought it would, neither was it the way he hoped it would turn out. But that was how the two of them had always been. There was no telling what could possibly happen next. But as they sat there, opening the floodgate in the dusty damp old base that even the dawning sun couldn’t illuminate, Jack found that he wasn’t alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my tumblr for more Blizz trash: [Nei Karasu](http://neikarasu.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ./go cry in a corner


End file.
